


Darkest

by CrumblingAsh



Series: The Stupid Secrets We Keep [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Childhood Sexual Abuse, Graphic Depiction of Child Abuse, Hurt Peter, M/M, Molestation, Past Child Abuse, Peter-centric, Protective Avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 01:38:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2048379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrumblingAsh/pseuds/CrumblingAsh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter doesn't tell anyone. It happened a long time ago, anyway. And it wasn't like he was raped. It's not that big of a deal, Jesus, why can't he just get over it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkest

* * *

 

 

He doesn’t tell anyone.

It’s not a big deal.

Rape … _rape_ is a big deal.

Hurting someone like that, holding them down and taking their strength and their will away from them, for … sex?

That’s a big deal.

He hates that.

This is nothing.

 

 

 

There are no marks on his skin.

There are no bruises to count and soothe.

 There are no cuts to bandage in fear of scarring.

And therefore, there are no scars.

 

 

 

 

Sometimes he dreams.

Weathered hands on his shoulders, kind and comforting.

Soft fingers trailing over his skin, gentle,

_It’s okay, Peter._

Finding,

_This is okay._

_Don’t tell anyone, okay? We can’t tell anyone._

_We’ll get in trouble._

He wakes up sick.

_You don’t want to get in trouble, do you?_

 

 

 

 

He doesn’t tell anyone.

It was just a little touching.

It’s stupid that it even still bothers him, really.

Twenty-two and still giving a damn.

 _Spider-Man_ and still giving a damn.

 

 

 

 

Sometimes, he freezes up.

Steve will pat his shoulder.

Tony will say something dirty.

Bruce will brush by, the smallest bit of contact in all the wrong places that aren’t wrong at all.

It makes his mind numb.

_This is okay. Shh._

_Just like that._

 

 

 

 

He doesn’t tell anyone.

It’s not a big deal.

 But Aunt May would have cried, Uncle Ben would have been angry.

Torn up over something that hadn’t even happened.

The team would judge him.

For still thinking about it.

Because it’s not a big deal.

 

 

 

 

_Hey, Peter. This is okay._

_We’re not really doing anything._

_I just want to feel you, like this._

_I want to feel you here, okay?_

_My hands are soft, it won’t hurt._

_It doesn’t feel bad, does it kiddo?_

_Your skin is so soft. You’re beautiful._

_Does it feel funny? I’m sorry._

_You don’t have to be embarrassed._

_You can touch me too, there._

_Try it, it won’t bite you._

_Just like that._

_That feels nice._

_Doesn’t this feel nice?_

_Don’t tell anyone about this, Peter._

_We can’t tell anyone about this._

_We’ll get in trouble, and you don’t want to get in trouble, do you?_

_I wouldn’t want your uncle to be mad at you, kiddo._

_We’re just touching._

_This isn’t wrong._

 

 

He doesn’t tell anyone.

He sees Tony and Bruce on the couch, slow kisses and gentle touches, whispered words in a quiet moment.

_We’re just touching._

It makes him cold; he can’t get away fast enough.

He knocks the table, doesn’t see the startled, concerned eyes at his back.

He feels sick.

 

 

 

 

He touches himself and it feels weird.

His body writhes under his hand, but his mind can’t catch up.

He feels empty when he comes, cries against his pillow while his body flies in pleasure.

He hates it.

 

 

 

 

He doesn’t tell anyone.

Tony approaches him first.

“Look, kid, I’m sorry if we made you, you know, uh … uncomfortable. I know it makes a lot of people-.”

“No!” Peter’s quick, because Tony’s face is blank but his eyes are shuttered and that wasn’t what he wanted at all. “It’s not … that. Really. You just … surprised me.”

“Really?” Tony sounds dubious. “So you’re okay with us? Bruce and me?”

_This isn’t wrong._

“Yeah. It’s cool, Tony.”

 

 

 

 

Bruce approaches him second.

It’s not like with Tony. Tony was brash, predictable, easily distracted.

Bruce looks him straight in the eye, lays his hand on his shoulder.

Peter flinches away without thinking, and it’s quiet.

“Peter.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“It’s not us at all, is it?”

His stomach is a cross between the usual numb and cold and sick.

“ _Jesus_. Peter, hey. Look at me.”

He can’t – Bruce’s eyes will be a swirl of brown and green, sad and angry like he gets, like a mix of what Aunt May and Uncle Ben would have been.

_You don’t have to be embarrassed._

_Doesn’t this feel nice?_

_Don’t tell anyone about this, Peter._

_We can’t tell anyone about this._

“It wasn’t rape!” He blurts out, can’t stop himself. He looks away. “It wasn’t rape. It wasn’t even sex, okay? It’s not a big fucking deal. Just … don’t, okay? Don’t-.”

“Peter.” Bruce’s voice is easy.  “ _Please_ look at me. Please?”

He does. Sees the brown and green swirl he’d been expecting, but also something different. Something … understanding. Soft. Caring.

Bruce doesn’t reach for him again. Just slowly sits at the other chair at the table, facing him, hands on his own knees in clear view.

“You don’t have to,” the older man says quietly, carefully, keeping eye contact. “But if you want to tell me, or talk about it at all, I’ll listen. If you need someone to listen.”

Peter swallows.

 

 

 

 

He doesn’t tell anyone.

It’s not that big of a deal.

He wasn’t raped. He wasn’t held down. He wasn’t threatened.

He could have walked away at any time.

He doesn’t tell anyone.

But he talks about it, low and fast with embarrassment and dread chasing his every word; straight fact, no feelings, _because it’s not a big fucking deal he’s not a child._

Bruce listens.

 

 

 

 

Later, after he’s gone to bed, he doesn’t hear Bruce tell the others.

Doesn’t see the guilt that crashes over Tony’s face and cripples him to the couch like a bullet.

Doesn’t see the thunder rage over Thor or hear the demands for a name.

Doesn’t see Natasha float to her room or Clint to the rafters, trapped in memories of their own.

Doesn’t see Steve hover outside of his door for the rest of the night, silent and guarding.

And when he wakes up…


End file.
